


Planet Earth is blue (and there's nothing I can do)

by mazily



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-18
Updated: 2006-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mazily/pseuds/mazily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first sign that things are about to go horribly, irrevocably, pear-shaped is this: Romana, sitting in an 18th century Xanphillian bathing costume, eating an ice cream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Planet Earth is blue (and there's nothing I can do)

**Author's Note:**

> Non-linear because, hi, _Time Lords_. Title from Bowie.

1.

It is hot. The TARDIS is tired, poor thing, and you promise her a nice relaxing holiday in Brighton (which she still loves, and you decidedly do not, but all's fair in love and time travel; or, rather, all's fair except when it's not, which in this case is now).

The first sign that things are about to go horribly, irrevocably, pear-shaped is this: Romana, sitting in an 18th century Xanphillian bathing costume, eating an ice cream. You're only half-way through the TARDIS door, one foot in and one out, so you feel her shiver of recognition, her exasperated sigh (you hear her inappropriately sarcastic, _"Oh, joy, Romanadvoratrelundar"_ ). The TARDIS knows, after all, that you are meant to be the last of the Time Lords. And if Romana is still alive, well.

Well, indeed.

 

2.

"Doctor!" Romana says, "I've been waiting for you."

You smile. "Romana," you say, " _Fred._ " You laugh. She hugs you (and not at all the other way around, though, of course, you return the embrace). You blow your nose on her scarf. Those aren't tears; it's just that you've a horrid case of hay fever.

"And not just her," says a familiar voice from behind a lime green van. A very familiar voice, indeed, and a very familiar man in a very familiar cap. "Hey, Doctor, looking," Jack says, leering as only Jack can, "Good. Like the glasses."

"Jack," you say. "Nice hat."

 

.5

(You weren't there, but, later, too many drinks and Jack explains how he met Romana, your Romana, Romana of all Romanas. Later still, you'll go back, and you will see for yourself:

_Jack is sick to death of tea. Tea, tea, tea, tea, tea. He's a coffee man, always has been, and everyone at Torchwood is sick to death of his ("constant whinging") constructive criticism vis-a-vis the quality of "coffee" served at HQ. So he's off, out on the town, and on the hunt: he will find coffee, good coffee, or he will die (heroically, stoically, etc.) trying._

_He's shopping._

_At the till, there's a woman. She recommends a new blend, something special, something "Gallifreyan," she says, and, "Hello, Jack. I am Romanadvoratrelundar. Take me, as they say, to your leader." She laughs. Jack does not._

_He buys his coffee, and he takes her to HQ. Which is when all hell breaks loose._

You think, "Odd." Also, "I wonder if they shagged." Not that you care, of course; it's just that you're curious about just about everything. It's one of the things you're known for.

Well, that, and the stunning good looks)

 

3.

"Doctor," Romana says. "I think I'm going to retire for the evening."

She does look tired, now that you look, and older. There are creases at her eyes, and grey bits in her hair. "Goodnight, then," you say. You wonder why she hasn't regenerated; after all, she's done it before for purely cosmetic reasons (not that you approve of such things), and if this body's breaking down, if it's getting old, well.

Well.

"Goodnight, Romana," Jack says. "Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs-" He turns and punches you. "-bite." You're pretty sure you deserve it, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

 

3.5.

You've got Jack against the wall, and his lip is bleeding. He's breathing hard, arrhythmic and harsh. Beneath him, the TARDIS shivers. You shiver. His hand around the knot in your tie, and he pulls-

-you push.

"So, Time Lord," Jack says. His breath is slightly sour. He spreads his legs, or you push them apart with your thigh, and he stops talking altogether. His teeth are sharp, and he tastes of whisky and tea.

All over. He tastes of whisky and tea all over (except where he tastes of human blood, of mortality, of Jack).

 

2.5.

"-Rose?" Jack asks. "What happened? Tell me, I can take it, I deserve to know."

 

4.

The TARDIS is cross with you, slow to respond and sulking. Romana sits on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her (toes pointing, flexing, pointing, flexing), and she tries to convince the TARDIS that we can't stay in Brighton (or at least _this_ Brighton, Brighton in August of 2043) any longer. The TARDIS purrs when Romana runs her fingers across the floor.

 

.75.

(You weren't there, but Romana thinks you ought to know. Later, you will go back (or forward, rather, as the TARDIS has finally consented to take you out of Brighton, 2043, and directly to Bristelmestune, 1514) to verify her version of events.

_Romana thinks that Cardiff in 2007 is one of the dullest places she's ever been, though some of the hairstyles are rather fetching. She also thinks that this is a stupid plan, but, until she can think up a better one, it's all she has. She waits. She hates working in this shop._

"Jack explained how we met, didn't he?" she asks. You nod. "Good, I'll just skip ahead then, shall I?"

_Later that evening, Romana is unfortunately still in Cardiff, being interrogated. She explains that, no, she is not dead. And, no, the Doctor is not the sole living Time Lord. And, no, she is not going to explain how, exactly, she survived the Time War, mostly because it involved E-space, a sonic screwdriver, thirteen Daleks, and Jack._

"He did tell you that he used to be a Time Agent, didn't he?" she asks. "Well, it's not as if he sat about watching telly that entire time. Just because _he_ doesn't remember, doesn't mean it never happened."

 

6.

"Wait," you say. Romana doesn't listen (but, then, she never really did, did she?).

 

5.

"So," you say, "Jack, what, he saved you?"

"Something like that," Romana says. And then she kisses you. "Hm. Minty."

Romana tastes of Gallifrey and grass and something hinting of home (or maybe pie). The TARDIS vibrates, and Romana's tongue is slightly scratchy. Romana pushes you against the wall, and the TARDIS purrs, the air is heavy and liquid, and Romana's fingernails are too long. She rips your shirt.

You slide to the floor, and Romana straddles you. The TARDIS lights up.

 

7.

"I don't want to know," Jack says, winking. He pulls off his shirt.

 

 

7.5

Something is wrong. Something is very very wrong, and very right, and, _"Oooh, fuck, right there."_

"Here?" Jack asks. He bites your stomach. Licks. "Put on the glasses," he says, and you decidedly do not growl. You. Don't. Growl. You can't talk, your tongue's too heavy, you can't think. You can't lift your arms; Jack shouldn't be able to hold you down, but he does, he is, and you keep your eyes open. You feel.

The TARDIS is hot beneath you, and the lights flicker. You press your hands against the floor, and you push. Your fingers tingle. Your palms are sweaty, and you can't keep still but you can't move. Jack pulls your specs from your jacket, and he caresses your ears as he puts them on you.

You growl. The TARDIS shakes. Jack kisses you, and kisses you, and he slips his hand into your trousers.

 

.82

(There will be an official report about it, of course, in the classified Torchwood archives:

_Subject is Gallifreyan, female, age unknown. Alleges to be former President of Gallifrey, Romanadvoratrelundar, and to have survived the so-called "Time War" through undisclosed means. Considered to be armed and dangerous; proceed with caution._

"We escaped," Romana says. "They didn't catch us because I am inordinately smarter than anyone else.")

 

10.

"Done!" Romana says. You decide to go to 1969. San Francisco, perhaps. Or Zed-Prime. You decide to let the TARDIS decide (you did rather interrupt her holiday, after all, and you refuse to spend another day, another nanosecond, in Brighton).

 

9.

It's Jack who figures it out, which is really rather embarrassing (especially for Romana, who turns a lovely shade of pinkish green). You zip your trousers, find your sonic screwdriver beneath Jack's coat, and get to work making things right. Romana helps, and Jack claims that ogling Romana's arse whenever she bends over is actually "supervising."

 _"It is,"_ he insists. Romana throws a handful of Smarties at his head. Jack laughs.

You crawl beneath the console, trying to figure out how, exactly, the wiring got to be such a mess. How to put it to rights. You're fixing a particularly nasty bit of cross-circuitry when you hear Romana giggle. Soft slurping sounds, what you're pretty sure is Romana being lifted up onto the console, Romana's shirt falling to the ground. Heavy breathing and the scrape of Jack's stubble across Romana's cheek. The TARDIS-

-shifts, shivers, slivers between your fingers.

"By Jove," you say, "I think I've got it!" You bump your head as you maneuver your way out, but it barely even registers. "Put your clothes back on, boys and girls; I am a complete and utter genius, and I have solved all of our problems. Jack, back there please. Romana, over here. When I count to three, I want you," you say, pointing to Jack, "to pull that lever. Romana, you'll need to triangulate the-"

"-oh, that's brilliant, Doctor," she says. "Shall we, then?"

You shall. You count, "One, two, three."

 

8.

"None of this ever happened," you say.

"Agreed," Romana says. She buttons her blouse. Her hair's a mess. She bites her lip.

Jack smirks. "Not even the thing with the-?"


End file.
